


Winding Roads

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Series: Really Old Fic [22]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Written for the Stages of Love Challenge, mostly just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-06
Updated: 2006-02-06
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: Really the logical and systematical building of a relationship. Because Roy and Ed would have it no other way.





	1. From the Outside In

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 2/6/06. This was written for Stages of Love on LJ. I didn't finish it. Oops. I can finish it if you like. 
> 
> Either way, this first chapter is the only one that takes place during the series (2003 anime). The rest takes place afterward, but outside movie canon, since I hadn't seen it when I wrote this.
> 
> I hate this less than most of my really old fic.

It was a day not unlike any other -- paperwork, unending amateur photography, jaw-creaking for the superiors. It had simply been given a new insight; not turned on its end, or having taken a face-plant, or any of those sordid, overused romantic idioms. It merely pointed out something that had not previously been taken into consideration, and shoved it under a sudden, shrewd, and hastily put together microscope. 

Such as, why, exactly, Roy felt such an innate glee at watching Ed turn nineteen different shades of red each time his height was brought up in conversation. He’d always figured it was because he enjoyed needling someone whose intelligence was on par with his own, watching their reactions and studying them in a way that utilized his own intellectual scrutiny. When he found himself giving the elder Elric sibling a glance that bordered on fond, he knew Edward wasn’t the only emotionally off-balance alchemist in the room.

Further staring, which Roy excused as research into this new, relevant discovery, proved to only expound upon this new view of Edward: his eyes seemed to linger on the bit of muscle that showed through the fabric covering the younger man’s abdomen, the way he could tell which leg was automail and which was flesh by the pull and stretch of tight leather pants, and how, when he gestured in the wide-armed way he did when he was truly upset, his arms, both flesh and mechanical, moved in such a graceful fashion that Roy would almost have suspected him at having rehearsed it.

Almost, as the number of times he’d done it, specifically in Roy’s direction, had probably given him the experience needed to perfect even the most minimal of the movement’s details.

And so it was, that in a purely scientific and unromantic manner, Colonel Roy Mustang recognized and accepted his attraction to the younger, louder, and significantly less composed alchemist. Whether or not he did anything with that attraction; now, that was the real question. 

Roy would certainly look into it in its own due course.


	2. From the Inside Out

When Ed recognized his attraction to the older alchemist for what it was, there was no careful, studious analysis. There were, instead, sporadic explosions all over the outskirts of Central. None of which, upon later inspection, could be traced to any particular cause. They were written off as accidents of the bizarre persuasion and thrown on the “unsolved mysteries” pile.

They were, perhaps, the only of Ed’s destructive rampages that were charged to the city, rather than the military. If Roy had known about them, he would have been sure to thank the younger alchemist. 

Ed was not willing to accept his attraction for such, just because a few certain thoughts had triggered something he’d never felt before. Sure, he hadn’t felt any particular lust towards girls his own age, but he’d written that off as intellectual discrepancy. His lack of feelings towards Winry? She was like a sister, not a lover. When even Psiren had failed to ignite his hormones, he’d shrugged it off as work, and if he were to meet her socially, and without any prior knowledge as to who she was, he figured would have felt differently. 

He had never, under any circumstances, considered that his lack of romantic inclination meant he wasn’t attracted to women. He just wasn’t ready; they just weren’t his type; he was too busy working to emotionally fulfill a romance.

And thus it was, with much griping, cursing, and flailing, that Edward gave in to three realizations about himself: he was, indeed, attracted to his superior, Colonel Roy Mustang, as the obvious signs would no longer allow him to deny, he was, resignedly, attracted to men, and he very, very desperately needed a cold shower.

And for once, he had only one thing to say: “Goddamn, fucking, son of a bitch!”


	3. Ebb and Flow

All things flow in a matter of time. It took Riza five minutes to realize Roy was not, in fact dead, and get him en route to the hospital; it took Roy three months to recover enough to take care of himself; it took Alphonse six months to relearn, in a crash course, everything Izumi knew he’d learned in the five years that had been taken from him; it took Roy eight months to realize that the nagging little feeling, in the back of his mind, saying something was missing, was referring to Edward; it took Alphonse three years to admit he had no idea what he was actually doing, and start over from scratch in his search for his brother; it took Edward four years to make it back through the Gate.

Roy understood this flow of time better than most, though not as well as some. He could honestly admit to knowing the circular ebbs and flows, moving as though in a snail’s tide. He knew that, just as fashion and music recycle themselves, so do feelings.

So it only took Roy six months in Edward’s presence to realize he was still in love with the boy. Perhaps it was his pheromones igniting previously unused synapses in Edward’s brain, or they were linked enough to be synonymous, but Edward also recognized, acknowledged, and bowed to his affections for the former colonel. 

Their romance of fights and flowers, knives and kisses, began one sunny afternoon, when Edward had had enough of the fleeting looks and stammered excuses.

He had collapsed into unending laughter as Roy had come up with yet another bogus reason for invading his personal space. “Why don’t we just drop the charade, hm?” he had asked the rather stunned man, golden eyes serious despite the grin playing across his features. “You do all you can to touch me, and I warm to your presence like a lizard in a nap.” He had stepped even further into Roy’s periphery, and leaned so that a smooth wind may have had trouble blowing between them. “So why don’t we just give in?”

Roy had paused momentarily, taken off guard by Edward’s sudden forward manner, as he’d grown quite accustomed to playing their game of cat and mouse. Then he had smiled, and closed the lean distance between them, covering Edward’s mouth with his own. He ignored that they were in plain daylight, and he ignored all legal statute. He wound his arms around Edward’s wiry, solid form and pulled him as close as he thought was reasonable, and when his actions were returned, he didn’t stop until his lungs were screaming for air. 

Yes, time flowed in obvious patterns, and Roy knew them nearly in and out.


	4. A Change in Pace

Life went on, as lives often do, and it went on to watch Ed spend most of his time in the library, Roy spend an equal amount of his time running a small custom glassware shop on the edge of Central, and Al and Winry come to the conclusion that if Roy and Ed could be together despite their slightly-more-than-significant age difference, age wasn’t really a boundary. And so it was that Alphonse Elric and Winry Rockbell married in 1921, with Ed their smiling Best Man, and Schiezka their weepy Maid of Honor.

They decided to settle down in Central, opening a largely publicized and much talked about Work Shop. Winry specialized, of course, in intricate mechanics, and Al did custom alchemic jobs. They settled into their lives with much enthusiasm and aplomb, and quickly earned enough money and respect to tide themselves into the next several decades.

All congratulations were in their court, and they were, demurely or excitedly, accepting them for the accomplishments they mirrored. For the first few weeks, Ed was noted as a regular at their doorstep, either helping around the shop or keeping company during a lull. But as time went on, Ed’s presence dwindled, and while the neighbors were somewhat confused by this change in pace, Ed understood it intrinsically.

Roy found himself in subtle agreement with the “confused” delegation, and was particularly inclined to commentate when one particular Thursday marked the fifth day in a row Ed had eaten dinner with him, rather than Alphonse. He certainly didn’t mind the presence -- not in the slightest -- but he was sorely tempted to ask if Ed was planning to move in, seeing as he was around more than he wasn’t.

So he asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy having dinner together,” he began carefully, steering clear of any and all references that might incite his formidable partner, “but is there any particular reason why you’ve all but ceased spending time with your brother?” He was given cause to wonder if he hadn’t, despite his caution, phrased the question poorly when Ed gave up all pretence of eating and stared down into his lasagna.

He was relieved when, finally, Ed shrugged. “No,” Ed replied, picking up his fork and continuing to eat in a stiff and slightly green manner.

“You’re lying,” Roy accused amiably, watching Ed with a knowing eye.

Ed shrugged again. “You’re right,” he replied, looking back up at Roy in a way that clearly meant, _and that’s all you’re getting_.

Roy conceded, and ended the conversation in the middle, beginning to see Ed’s train of thought.

When, after dinner, the sex was slightly more violent, more desperate, than usual, Roy understood. And when they’d lain to rest, each in his own way, Roy said, a hand running through Ed’s loosened hair, “You’re always welcome here, and I’m not likely to ever get sick of you.” He smiled slightly. “I even cleaned out the east closet. Just for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually a perfectly serviceable ending. There were technically two drabbles left, but they were just going to be highly domesticated fluff.


End file.
